--That bastard’s strong.-- Zihao observed the man in the center, the way he seemed perfectly balanced, the way he concealed his qi. The one with the thin face seemed completely unconcerned at the prospect of combat but his subordinates gave off subtle hints of nervousness.

--Still, they’re not easy. Too much for Feng.-- He left his doubts unspoken and instead looked over his shoulder.

“Pema, Pengfei, the man on the right”.

Thin-face began to release his internal energy and his followers did the same. Zihao could feel it in the air and in his gut. His own qi crackled in a sympathetic response, bringing every nerve and muscle to life.

Readiness began to tip over into anxiety until Zihao made a conscious effort to rein it in. He kept his breath even and spoke with a voice so flat that no one would suspect such emotions had ever been there.

“Don’t do this.”

But the men ignored him, leaping into air. Their arc took them higher than any normal human could hope to jump.

Feng and Zihao drew their swords and hopped backwards off their horses as arrows flew overhead. The men in black landed a few paces away, unharmed. One tried to break off and head for Pema and Pengfei but Zihao dashed to intercept.

Cloud Step (yun bu - 雲步)

The qinggong of his sect, the movement techniques that allowed swordsmen to make lunges of a dozen paces and walk on snow without leaving tracks, propelled Zihao forward with blinding speed.

Once their swords crossed it was clear that the man in black could move almost as quickly. Zihao’s thrust was deflected and the opponent came back with a thrust of his own.

Meanwhile, the largest of the three strangers was pushing Feng back with powerful strokes that left their swords ringing after each exchange. Feng’s attempts at offense broke on the stranger’s guard like water splashing on rocks and sent the young warrior backpedaling.

Zihao tried to make a dash towards his junior. He used cloud step again and barely outpaced his opponent but then thin-face was there, attacking.

The man in black gave a seemingly lazy slash with his sword but blocking it knocked Zihao off his feet. He landed hard on his back, quickly rolled over his shoulder to standing again.

“Qingcheng swordsmanship…,” the attacker said with a sneer.

Zihao and Feng had packed their distinctive blue robes away early in the journey to travel incognito. But the man had identified their style from a few brief glimpses and one short exchange.

Zihao made yet another dash but the man moved laterally to block the path once more.

It was then. Over the leader’s shoulder, Zihao saw Ma Feng’s opponent thrust his sword through the boy’s midsection.

“No!!!”

The junior brother he had known for more than ten years spat out blood and fell to his knees.

Zihao summoned the energy stored in his dantian. He took the briefest of moments to focus on the circulation of his qi. He guided the energy from his core to his legs and sword-arm. He screamed and coiled like a snake before a strike, then exploded forward. His blade unleashed a dozen thrusts as he moved.

Rain from the blue sky (lan tian yu – 藍天雨)

The thrusts were fast, the sword almost invisible as it shuttled forward and back. Each attack was meant to be as unpredictable and obscure as rain falling from a clear blue sky.

The beginnings of sword qi were faintly detectable with each attack. If Zihao trained for a few more years the technique would undoubtedly develop into something as oppressive as the torrent of a monsoon.

But now was not the time to use this. It was not meant to be brought forward in isolation like this, without preamble or strategy. Instead of rain falling from a clear sky, it was as obvious as a downpour coming from blackened storm clouds.

The thin-faced man effortlessly evaded the strong frontal attack and an arm as he sidestepped.

Zihao ignored the pain and continued his push toward the man standing above Ma Feng. The stranger was poised to deal a killing blow.

“Watch out Guoyu!” a voice called from behind but the warning came too late to help the stranger. Zihao sliced through the man’s wrist with a swift stroke. A powerful spurt of blood erupted from the severed limb as the sword fell together with the hand still holding it.

The amputee staggered backward clutching his bleeding stump. Zihao spun to look for the other attackers, his left arm now hanging useless at his side due to the wound incurred in reaching his junior. Ma Feng was on his knees coughing and whimpering in pain.

“Hold on Feng.”

--Hold on for what?--

Zihao wasn’t sure.

The boy’s attacker had staggered back over to his companions and was being tended to urgently by one of them. The thin-faced man just stared at Zihao.

“It would have been better for everyone if you had done as you were told and just turned back.”

Before Zihao could consider the truth of the man’s words, he heard pounding hooves behind him. He glanced back quickly and saw Pema riding up with two mounts in tow. The horses skidded to a halt several armlengths away.

Zihao shouted out to her, “Get Feng on his horse!”

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“It’s useless.”

Thin-face derided their efforts, taking a step forward only to be halted by an arrow that came whistling in from over Zihao’s shoulder. The stranger was forced to stop and deflect the projectile away from his heart. A good shot.

Pengfei was suddenly there on horseback besides Zihao, bow in hand, and another arrow nocked. The strangers made no move to press their attack. Not worried at all but not rushing either.

Pema had managed to help Ma Feng up to his saddle and the pair were already galloping away from the scene.

“Give us that one and we’ll let the other children go.”

Thin-face pointed at Pengfei.

Zihao did not respond to the stranger. Instead, he spoke to the boy.

“You go ahead.”

“What?!” Pengfei gaped.

“This will be quick work if I don’t have to babysit you. Just leave me my horse.”

Pengfei seemed to take in the scene for a few moments.

“GO!” Zihao commanded.

One more cautious glance at the opponents, then Pengfei turned and galloped off after the others.

Zihao shuffled backwards. He held his horse by the reins but made no move to mount it.

“Do you mind if I just catch my breath for a moment?”

Thin-face gave a slight nod to Zihao’s strangely casual question.

“I can spare a few seconds for a man about to die.”

The Qingcheng swordsman took in the scenery. The sunlight glimmered on the waters of the lake to the south. A crisp, cool, breeze kicked up the dust off the rocky earth. He knew if he looked behind him, he would see snowcapped peaks stretching into the east and west. A few brief seconds passed in silence.

“Thanks. I needed the strength for the next part.”

Zihao turned to his horse and slashed deeply into the side of its neck with his blade. It bayed wildly and reared, spraying a grisly fountain of blood through the air.

“Sorry for getting you into this.” Zihao spoke to the animal as it fell dead to the ground.

“A strange way to show your resolve, but I admire it. It won’t save them though. You’ll be dead in two minutes, and we’ll run them down.”

“The chase will be a bit more difficult without a horse.”

Thin-face looked around. Of the horses that the strangers had ridden, one mount lay dead not far away. Another limped in the distance with an arrow protruding from its thigh. The last animal was nowhere to be seen.

Zihao saw a look of frustration flit across the man’s face for the first time in their encounter before the bastard’s thin lips parted for a single word.

“Shit.”

*************************************************************************************

Pema and Ma Feng were not far ahead. Pengfei came over a small hill and found them barely trotting within five minutes of leaving Zihao’s side.

“Wake up dammit!” Pema shook Feng’s shoulder violently as the Qingcheng disciple slumped in his saddle.

“Uuugh….”

It was no use. Feng was unconscious a few moments later and sliding to the ground. Pema was off her horse and easing him to the ground in the next moment. She shouted out as her boots touched earth.

“Help me!”

Pengfei joined her on the ground.

“Is he…?” he began.

“I don’t know.”

Pengfei couldn’t detect any breathing from Feng but now was not the time to conduct a thorough medical examination.

“Get the saddle off. We’ll have to tie him on like luggage.” Pema said hurriedly.

“We’ll have to go slow.”

Pengfei released the belt around the horse’s stomach as Pema looked around for the first time.

“Where’s Zihao?”

“He said he’d catch up.”

The two shared a worried look but carried on.

--Was I a coward to leave him or was I just doing what I was told?--

Pengfei was not sure of his motivations in leaving Zihao but he knew he was thankful to be away from the fight. He couldn’t rest easy, though; he had seen the speed of a true martial artist’s qinggong. Even with Zihao delaying them, even on foot over hard terrain, the attackers might still catch up.

Pema mounted again and took Feng’s horse in tow. Pengfei kept the rear, his bow in hand and constantly looking behind. They could not manage much speed but it was still faster than they could do on foot.

The sun was mostly set now. Darkness was increasing with every passing moment. A double-edged sword. They might lose any pursuers in the night but it would be difficult to rendezvous with Zihao as well.

--Anyone who does find us is going to take us by surprise.--

Pengfei gave a last look behind as the sun’s rays disappeared behind the peaks of the western mountains.

Starlight was the only thing keeping them from stumbling into each other. The group’s focus shifted from speed to silence. So, Pema and Pengfei were dismayed when Feng’s horse began chuffing and neighing in annoyance. The unconscious teenager had slid down and hung awkwardly against the animal’s side and belly.

Pema shook her head critically.

“When we find some wood, we’re going to have to make a stretcher. This isn’t working.”

Before they righted Feng, Pengfei took off his coat and sliced strips out of it. He tied them together and attempted to wrap the band around Feng to staunch his chest wound. But fear and anxiety bubbled over in the middle of the task.

“Shit, I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Come on, maybe someone at Kunlun can help him.”

Pema’s words were meant to comfort but Pengfei could feel the wet blood soaking Feng’s clothes. His hands came away sticky with it. He tried to summon enough bravery to check for a pulse but failed, and insteadbegan crying quietly as they put Feng back on his horse.

Another hour passed and they were coming to the mouth of a canyon, one side formed by the ridge of the great mountain that cradled the Kunlun sect.

“Just stop.”

The voice sounded in their ears unnaturally. Amplified and directed with the use of qi. Pengfei recognized the voice from the few words it had spoken earlier. The man with the thin face.

Pema and Pengfei looked around frantically for their pursuer but could not even discern what direction his voice had come from.

“Go!” Pengfei urged. Pema spurred her horse forward and yanked on the lead that tethered her mount to Feng’s.

Pengfei drew another arrow from his quiver, nocked it, then followed his companions. But a moment later, there was a flash as something tore through his horse’s neck and out the other side. The animal went slack and fell headfirst into the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. If it made a sound of pain, Pengfei did not hear it. The boy tumbled across the rocky soil then scrambled to his feet. He immediately sprinted in the direction Pema had ridden before she disappeared in the darkness.

“What message were you supposed to deliver to the Kunlun sect?” The voice asked from the darkness. “Who was it in the Qingcheng sect that sent you here?”

No matter how fast he ran the voice sounded the same. From everywhere at once.

“Tell me.”

Pengfei didn’t answer; he just kept running.

PAIN!

He arched his spine in agony and fell face-first into the dirt again. Desperate pawing at the flesh of his lower back dislodged a dagger from his flank.

--Could’ve killed me if he wanted!-- Pengfei’s mind screamed at itself, comparing the horse’s horrible death to his own circumstances. He didn’t stop to question it further but tried to get back up and run.

“You’ll tell me in time.” The voice spoke again, this time sounding more natural. Pengfei looked back and saw the man with the thin face just a few strides away.

“Of course, it doesn’t really matter what the message is. All that matters is that it’s not delivered.”

--The message?--

--Shaolin, Kongtong, Zhongnan, Nangong, Emei.-- The words raced through Pengfei’s mind unbidden.

He limped pathetically, too scared to look back now. There was the unmistakable sound of a sword drawn from its sheath.

The chase had brought them to the mouth of a canyon. There was a bit more grass here compared to the rocky terrain they had been scrambling over so far. The vegetation cushioned Pengfei’s fall when he distractedly tripped over a large stone.

“Tell me and the end won’t hurt.”

--No, no, no, no, no, no.--

All Pengfei could see was the sword blade glinting in the dim starlight. He turned and crawled but thin-face kicked him over to his back and stood atop him a moment later.

“Have you come to join Kunlun, boy?” a voice asked. But Pengfei had not seen the man move his lips. When his attacker looked around for the source, surprised, Pengfei realized someone else was speaking.

The voice rang out again with a power that shook the air.

“Have you come to join Kunlun!?”

The thin-faced man looked panicked. Instantly, he began moving his sword to deliver a killing blow on Pengfei.

“Yes!” Pengfei screamed in response as his attacker swung his sword.

“You are accepted.”

A brilliant flash of white erupted in the dark night and caused Pengfei to wince and shield his eyes.

CLANG!

It was more than a sound. Pengfei felt the reverberations in his bones. He looked through half-closed eyes and saw the source. Two swords crossed and ringing with energy.

One sword was held by his assailant, the other by an old man. White hair, white beard, grey robes. A Taoist master of Kunlun.